


inattentive

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: It's easy to pay attention when people talk openly.





	inattentive

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhh Listen;;;
> 
> not beta'd

Hector notices things.  
  
He bleeds into the shadows of whatever room he's in, even with literal vampires, and they talk as if he isn't there. He assumes it's much the same for Isaac. They're worthless to them, and he knows that. They're worth less than them in general, dangerous animals that they are, nothing but convenient prey that can't run as fast or hide as well.  
  
It's easy to pay attention when people talk openly because to them you're just background noise.  
  
He notices the way Dracula doesn't move around as much.  
  
Nothing like the curiosity and kindness of their first introduction or the righteous fury of their second. He's sedentary, more comfortable to sit in his study or his throne and have his servants attend to him. He's indecisive and passive, so Hector can only assume he's waiting to die.  
  
He's seen snakes and tarantulas refuse food before when they are in too much pain to move in their molt. Cats too, when they get too old.  Birds get sad when their mates die too. Maybe it's a combination- a nature of multitudes cultivated for centuries, finally to a point of exhaustion.  
  
He notices the way ever other general rolls their eyes at Godbrand.  
  
He can hardly blame them, the brief period of time he's known the man he's already grown his own distaste for him. He is cruel and stupid. And it's so unfortunate that he is necessary. He notices the way the others leave the room, and how he hungers more than the rest.  
  
He notices the way Dracula rolls his eyes in the dim light and the way even Isaac's, patient, stoic Isaac, fingers twitch in barely-there irritation. He notices how when their Lord talks about Godbrand there is the smallest, the tiniest, minuscule really, irritation. Perhaps he is younger than the rest.  
  
Hector notices Carmilla.  
  
Even though she is hard to notice.  
  
She's careful, and careful means dangerous. The others, they're quick and fast and loud and not scared to hide it, but Carmilla. Carmilla with her armor that reaches her chin in a room full of vampires tries desperately not to be noticed. She's loud, but never as loud. Quick but quiet when she needs.  
  
She hates.  
  
It rolls off of her in waves, and his animals don't like her.  
  
Her words are measured, and her face gives off nothing but there is something in her gaze, the hunger of an angry second and it's so specific, so directed, that being in a room with her is difficult sometimes.  
  
She finds him first, in his workshop and her nails drag over the welding table, patient.  
  
She's trying to seduce him, the first time.  
  
Heaps of praise, long drawn out words. Delicate claws on his back. Honest interest in his work. In him.  
  
She likes playing with his hair.  
  
He doesn't understand why.  
  
He hammers new life into the undeserving while she whispers treason into his ear and runs her nails over the back of his neck.  
  
They don't talk much, outside of the war. Outside of the work. They eat separately, obviously, and keep different hours. Sometimes she invites him on walks around the castle, and sometimes she invites him on walks outside of the castle. To talk business, she tells him.  
  
To convince him to make a mistake, he hears.  
  
She has a few gowns with her. All dark colors. Singular armor piece. It covers her neck and her heart, and he is not stupid enough to pretend that she planned the treason before she even got here.  
  
She calls the wife a pet. A human pet. It's a novel idea, he supposes. But he's pretty sure it was honest love. He doesn't bother telling her his thoughts. She dismisses most of them out of hand anyway.  
  
It is cold out. The winds turn his lips blue and cheeks rosy, and she spends longer by his side that day. Staring at the rotting corpse of a bishop. She leans on his welding table, in the gown with the slit up the side that spreads open in the position and shows him more of alabaster skin.    
  
He debates asking what she's trying to do, but he keeps his mouth shut and pretends not to notice. It's safer to pretend not to notice with her.  
  
Hector wishes she didn't make as much sense as she does. Something about her is a million warning bells that take him back to his childhood home and his mother's sharp hand on his face. But she's always right.  
  
She notices things too. Dracula is weaker by the moment, and he doesn't care how much blood is spilled in the end. And when she tells him that Isaac is Dracula's favorite, she's right because Isaac was here first, of course. That Dracula would listen if Isaac asked. They're friends, after all. She tells him they think he's weak and simple.  
  
He tells her he's aware.  
  
She nudges again, fingers curled in his hair and a smile on her face.  
  
If they were to fight, Hector is sure that Carmilla would kill Dracula before the day was done.  
  
So he puts his lot in with her.  
  
And later, when the collar is on his neck, and she drags him halfway across the country by foot, he loathes himself for it.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and very very very appreciated
> 
>  
> 
> [ come talk to me ](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/)


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